The Boy who was alone 'til the End
by LadyPotter27
Summary: Harry Potter is the hero. He killed Voldemort, and regained peace for the world. But why is he still all alone?


Disclaimer: Thanks to JK Rowling, I was able to come up with some special ideas for her characters.

Harry angrily fell on his bed, breathing hard. He wanted to cry, but he couldn't because he was fuming with anger and had never felt so furious in his entire life.

_I thought I was the hero_. He thought miserably, as he crumpled up Hermione's note savagely and tossed it aside towards Hedwig's cage. Hedwig hooted, protesting that it wasn't her fault.

Harry did not give her any attention just stared at the ceiling that was barely holding up.

Now in his mid-twenties, Harry had grown into a fine young gentleman. His black hair was still tousled, but gave a carefree touch, and his sharp green eyes looked intelligent and screamed bravery. His always clenched jaw had given the most prominent and nice looking jawline of an ideal superhero. Actually, Harry was very much like a superhero. He had nothing else to worry about, saved the world by having finally defeated Voldemort and putting Snape in Azkaban, avenging both his parents and Dumbledore's tragic deaths.

Except, superheroes always had happy endings. Harry never really knew anything about the comic book superheroes, really, since as a child he was abused verbally and mentally and emotionally by his big cousin Dudley, who never let Harry touch any of his possessions, let alone a comic book. Unwanted beings always seemed to follow Harry around.

His Hogwarts years, his best time yet, still contained Harry's biggest enemies. His two best friends, Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger were the only ones he afforded to rely upon, having lost his favourite Professor Dumbledore in his sixth year.

Then after Hogwarts Harry was trained an auror, defeated the Dark Wizard, and was praised by everyone (well, said to be) in the wizarding world as the biggest hero of the whole Wizarding history. .

_But heroes never end up like this. _Harry thought bitterly. He had been an outcast for nearly seven years, in search of Voldemort and his followers, and defeating them one by one. He lost contact with all of his friends, teachers, and thank heavens, the Dursleys. But he thought about his two best friends all the time. And Ginny. The last girl he ever loved before he had been shunted away from the rest of the world to win their victory. And Cho Chang. The first girl he ever loved, and shared an intimate moment with.

But bravery took his heart, and Harry was never giving up. He fought like a brave soldier out on a battlefield, and used his skills wisely.

Now, he was the hero.

The hero who came back home after seven years of blood work and dirtiness, only to find his friends (that's it, really) and to regain contact with them. He had been ignored for about a year, and finally, at this Grimmauld Place, was a letter from an Eagle Owl, reminding him unpleasantly of Draco Malfoy's pet long time ago.

Ron and Hermione were married.

And they had a child.

Ginny had married a rich Wizard who was also a famous Movie star.

Cho and Oliver Wood had a happy family together.

And they all thought Harry was dead.

They never missed him after that.

They totally got over him.

So soon…

They forgot about him, until his name was mentioned in the Daily Prophet.

Harry had never felt so cheated and ditched in his whole entire life. After all that hard work for his loved ones, and searching for them desperately, and hanging on to them as it was his only hope, they had forgotten about him and moved on. And after weeks and weeks of mailing by owls, a single one page letter from Hermione telling Harry all the news, thinking how he had died, telling Harry that she missed him, signed by a simple and distant sounding '-Hermione'.

Harry lay on his bed. Tears finally rolled down, into his hair onto the bed. What was the point of life. He did not sweat blood to be alone. He had felt lonely all his life, thank you very much. He was sick of it. He was sick of being an orphan. He was sick of people gaping at his damn scar. He was sick of people calling him a lunatic. He was sick of people asking him if he really was Harry Potter. He was sick of strange people pointing at him and whispering about him whenever he went.

Even during his Hogwarts years. He had to suffer all of it. But still, he missed it so much, he cried even harder. It felt so long ago, when everybody was innocent and young and carefree. Before marriage was arranged, when only finishing your Homework was the biggest deal ever. He felt shunted still. And he was afraid he was going to be this way until he died. He had never felt so lonely. And angry, and so miserable.

Nobody came up to Harry thanking him personally for getting rid of Voldemort. They still stared at him, pointing and whispering, as if nothing had changed. He got rid of the world's enemy, but people showed no compassion. They still treated him like some World's Greatest Wonder.

Harry spilled tears non-stop for three hours, and finally fell asleep in bed, soundly asleep. Hedwig had flown away out of her cage into the cold darkness, looking for mice, or perhaps, a friendly letter thanking her loyal master for finding world peace. She hooted, letting out a sound like a melancholy song. The world was now at peace. And thanks to our Harry Potter, nobody ever had to worry about their loved ones being murdered now that the Darkest Wizard of all time, Voldemort, was finally dead.


End file.
